


The Chant of Light

by chaosfay



Series: Random Gifts Trades and One Shots [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Church Sex, Dom/sub, F/M, Oral Sex, Sex in a Church, Shameless Smut, Smut, dominant cullen, praying, praying during sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:05:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3110555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosfay/pseuds/chaosfay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a friend as part of a trade.</p><p>A fun parallel between the Chant of Light and some seriously hot dom/sub sex.  Prepare for a cold shower and blushing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chant of Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maggie-the-red-Trevelyan on Tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Maggie-the-red-Trevelyan+on+Tumblr).



Dreah had not expected to spend so much time out in the Hissing Wastes.  A vast nothingness with a few caves, tombs, and small canyons.  They had received a lead about Venatori and Red Templars being in the area.  Fighting them was the only particularly interesting part of the trip.  Varric would say otherwise with the tombs they had discovered, and Iron Bull was thrilled about the dragon guarding the final one.  What kept Dreah from getting so bored was Cassandra finding Cullen’s letter.  It had slipped out of Dreah’s pack somehow, and the warrior hadn’t thought much of reading it when she saw the handwriting was Cullen’s.   It was when Dreah cleared her throat that Cassandra realize she had read something she had no right to.  Sad enough for her she was now source of Dreah’s entertainment.  As if revealing her love of Swords and Shields wasn’t bad enough.  
  
 _My Beloved Dreah,_  
 _I know our separation will be longer than usual with you going out to the Hissing Wastes.  I’ll keep you in my prayers that you return to me as safe and alive as when you left.  Hopefully riding out there won’t be too terribly painful for you; I would apologize, but you made it clear the discomfort will make you happy.  Perhaps something more will help you sleep more easily knowing what you will receive when you return home._  
  
 _The Hissing Wastes, and all that traveling, will leave you rather filthy.  I’ll have a bath drawn for you as soon as we see you on the horizon.  Make certain you soak long and enjoy the bath oils I have waiting for you.  When you’re finished do me the pleasure of braiding your hair and wearing the new bed gown you’ll find on the bed.  On your sofa you’ll find my cloak.  Put that on as well and go to the garden chapel when the keep has grown quiet._  
  
 _As a show of thanks to the Maker and Andraste for delivering you safely home I intend to sing the Chant of Light with you, on you, in you.  With my teeth, my lips, my tongue I’ll bring to you the warmth you’ll find in no desert.  With my hands and arms I’ll hold you as you sing softly, deeply, and beg for more of me.  You are the Herald of Andraste, and I it is only right that I celebrate your presence as intimately as I can._  
  
 _Rest now, by love, and remember my length riding you hard deep and hard on the balcony.  I’ll remember your slick heat every night, the way you say my name when trying not to cry out, the smell of your hunger for more.  Your first night home will leave you walking sorely for a few days.  Rest now; you’ll receive little back in Skyhold._  
  
 _Eternally Yours, Cullen_    
  
Skyhold was now just hours away; nearly home now.  It’d been over a week since Cassandra had read the letter, but until now did the details within it take hold in her imagination.  Varric and Iron Bull were completely baffled by Dreah’s frequent laughing and the warrior’s blushing.  No amount of questioning could get anything out of the women other than Cassandra turning new shades of red and Dreah laughing harder.    
  
It was nearly time for the evening meal when they arrived.  The look of relief on Cassandra’s face was enough to elicit more laughing from Dreah.  After dismounting Dreah immediately took her leave to her quarters, leaving Cassandra to fend for herself.  Thoughts of them vanished like more fog as Dreah made her way up the stairs into the castle proper.  The smell of dinner being served was almost enough to turn her away from the instructions Cullen had left for her, but she was hungry for him more than she was for food.  
  
As soon as she was in her bedroom the heady scent of roses and sandalwood filled her senses.  She quickly stripped out of her traveling clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor.  Not only had a bath been set up, still hot, but a small table was placed next to it with a hefty serving of the evening meal.    
  
Dreah soaked while she ate, enjoying the warmth inside and out, washing it down with the spiced wine.  Her muscles slowly relaxed, her thoughts of the night to come bringing a smile to her face.  With her stomach now satisfied she set to scrubbing every last inch of herself.  They had stayed at a few inns between the Hissing Wastes and Skyhold, and she had taken a proper bath each time, but nothing like this.  It wasn’t until the water grew cold that she climbed out and dried herself off.  Seeing the new bed gown now Dreah couldn’t help but laugh.  This wasn’t something that ought to be worn to bed.  In fact, it was very impractical.  The fabric was a warm gold, soft as flower petals, but completely transparent.  As instructed she put it on, tying the laces at the top as she admired herself in the full length mirror in her wardrobe closet.  Yes, completely transparent, hardly worth calling a gown, and likely causing Cullen to blush like a little boy when he made the purchase.  
  
His cloak was more than welcomed as she put it on.  It smelled like him.  Not sweat or unwashed man, but of Cullen.  Soft worn leather, armor polish, earth, ink, parchment, and the soap he uses that she hasn’t quite been able to figure out yet.  Dreah runs her fingers through the soft fur, noting how much larger it looks now.  Smiling at her reflection, she can see the cloak will do very little to hide who she is.  Thank the Maker the keep is falling into quiet slumber now.  
  
Putting on a pair of her softest shoes she quietly makes her way down the stairs.  The sun has long since set, and Skyhold has fallen into the evening hush.  Opening the door to the main hall she’s greeted by Cassandra grinning,   “I sent the guards away.  Cullen forgot that small detail.”  
  
“Thank you.”  Dreah kisses Cassandra on the cheek before all much running down the hall to the garden door, clicking it shut quietly behind her.  Keeping close to the walls Dreah makes her way to the chapel door.  As soon as she opens it Cullen has her in his arms, pulling the door closed behind them.  
  
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d show.”  His mouth is on hers before she can respond.  The kiss is filled with heat, want, need, desire.  Pulling away just far enough to speak, “what took you so long?”  
  
“The bath was amazing; I got out only when the water became too cool,” Dreah nipped his lower lip before kissing him.  “That, and you forgot about the guards in the main hall.”  
  
Cullen immediately stood up straight, face red, “Oh, Maker, did they see you?”  Now in the candlelight she can see he’s not wearing his usual armor, but instead actual fabric and leather clothing.  
  
Dreah is in a fit of giggles as she sees the fear on Cullen’s face, “no, my love, they didn’t.  You can thank Cassandra for that later.”  Grabbing the collar of his shirt, and standing on her toes, she kissed him softly, gently, while pressing herself against his body.  “Right now I’m following instructions.”  Her lips brushed his own, teasing him.    
  
“Take the cloak off.”  Cullen’s hand grabs her braid, pulling her head back as he kisses her, the other hand supporting her at the small of her back.  “Now.”  
  
A whimper escapes her throat as he pulls her hair harder, and she can feel her knees about to go.  The cloak slides down more quickly than Dreah would like, and pools at her feet.  Then his mouth is moving down her jaw line to neck, his facial hair tickling her sensitive skin.  He releases her hair, his free hand sliding down her body to the ties holding the top of the gown closed.    
  
“Close your eyes.”  She can hear his lust in his voice, and could do nothing but obey if only just to hear him speak like that again.  
  
As soon as she closed them the cloak was gone from her feet.  She could here him moving things, but quietly.  She couldn’t help but smile knowing full well this place would be avoided for a few days if anyone heard them.  
  
“Okay, you may open them.”    
  
She looked around the small chapel and saw he had set up his cloak on the small altar set before statue of Andraste, candle-stands moved around to make more space available in the tiny room, and the items that were on the table now sat on the floor.  “Will we be struck down by lightning by going at it in here?”    
  
Cullen chuckles, “only if you call on the lighting.”  Before Dreah can say anything more he moves behind her to the door, barring it to prevent anyone from walking in on them.  The smile on his face, the confidence in his eyes, she can tell he’s been wanting to do this for awhile.  A private fantasy, perhaps?  In a few short steps he’s in front of her now, his mouth on hers, soft, tender, one hand cupping her face as the other looses the front of her gown open and teases her breast with his sword-worn hand.  “You’re shaking.”  
  
“Shivering.  I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m wearing nearly nothing.”  She smiles against his lips, chuckling.  “Perhaps you can remedy that.”  
  
“Indeed I can.”  The hand on her face moves to her braid again and pulls back enough to make her gasp.  His other hand pushes the gown off her body as his mouth teases her neck again.  She can feel her knees go weak as he kisses her neck with open mouth and teeth.  Her hands grabs onto shirt, trying to stay upright as best she can.  His free hand roams over her shivering body, now shaking for two reasons.  He releases her hair and in one swift movement sweeps her off her feet and onto the altar.  “I intend to sing the Chant of Light.”  His eyes are dark, looking at her as though she were a meal, and his hunger too much to control.  That smile of his, the way he looks at her, she can’t respond with words.    
  
Her weakness gives him just what he desires, and he’s kissing her again, hard and hot.  His right hand supports her, holding her upright as his other moves between her legs.  She opens readily to him, and moans deeply when his fingers part her folds and tease her.  Her breaths come faster as he rubs that spot, just there, with the right pressure.    
  
“Oh, Maker, hear my cry,” Cullen says as he pulls from their kiss, his lips brushing hers before he moves down her jaw to her ear.  She supports herself with her hands, holding herself upright as best she can. “Guide me through the blackest nights.”  He pushes one of his fingers inside her, then out with a slight curl.   She can feel her arms shaking as he moves his other hand to her breast, massaging and teasing her flesh. “Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked.”  He moves his mouth down her neck with open mouthed kisses, his tongue raking gently over her hot skin. “Make me to rest in the warmest places.”  He moves his finger inside her more quickly, his thumbs pressing just there, just right, flicking and rubbing as his mouth moves lower.  
  
Her breathing picks up more quickly, no longer just breaths.  A whimper, a moaning, though softly still.  She focuses so much on not falling she misses Cullen smiling at her as he pauses a moment to admire his work.  Her cold flesh is hot now, pink and red, and she’s slick with want of him.   He closes his eyes as he takes kisses the sensitive flesh of her breast.  The smell of sandalwood and rose flow over him, into him, mixed with the scent that is distinctly Dreah.  He continues working his fingers between her legs, moving a second finger in to mix with the first.  She gasps, jumps, and he takes her nipple into his mouth and nips it gently before exploring the rest of her breast with his mouth.  He can feel her shaking, and moves his fingers faster as he moves back up to her neck again  Faster now, curling a little more, she’s breathing harder now.  The feeling of her need soaking in his hands, her desire, makes his own that much more painful.    
  
He can feel her come undone as much as he can see it.  Her back arches, head falling back, her legs close as her nethers tighten around his fingers.  She calls out his name but is quickly silenced with his mouth on hers.  Her arms wrap around his neck and shoulders as best they can as she shakes beneath him.  Only then does he cease his movements and lets her come down from the high.    
  
Dreah’s breath slowly returns to normal.  She opens her eyes to find Cullen smiling, with pride, lust, and something more.  He slides his fingers out and licks them.  She can see how ready she is for him, and most definitely can feel it.  Her body is still shaking when he begins again.  
  
“O Creator, see me kneel,” and kneel he does.  Looking up at her now, eyes dark, “For I walk only where You would bid me.”  He pauses a moment, waiting for her.  All Dreah manages is a nod.  He grabs onto her hips, pulling her forward, resting her thighs on his shoulders. “Stand only in places You have blessed,” he licks her with the flat of his tongue, tasting her again, “Sing only the words You place in my throat.”    
  
His tongue runs over her again, then opens her gently, brushing up to the now swollen nub, flicking quick but gently.  He circles it before moving down and between, exploring her more thoroughly.  He legs are open to him, and he can feel her fingers in his hair, as much as for support as to direct him.  Cullen follows the orders given him, and focuses entirely on her.  His pushes is tongue flat over separated folds, tasting the mix of her and the bath oils, high on her scent and flavor.  He works his jaw, as much as his tongue, enjoying the sounds of her crying out with the sensations.  His face is wet with here, which his own sweat, and so much need for more.  Then her legs close around his head as she shakes around him.  The moment passes, and she releases him, sweat coming down her body, down his face, his neck, and she’s shakes.  He gently removes her legs from his shoulders.    
  
Cullen wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt before moving and tossing the sweat soaked cloth to the floor.  Before he can do anything more Dreah’s shaking hands are quickly undoing the laces holding his pants closed, his erection painful at this point.  The sigh of relief when freed of his clothing is almost too much.    
  
Looking up at him, “don’t stop singing.”  She wraps her hand around the base as she slips off the altar.  
  
“My Maker, know my heart,” his breath is shaky now, her talented mouth quickly setting to tearing down his control.  Her tongue dances a circle around the head as she slides further down, pressing her tongue along the bottom.  “Take from me a life of sorrow,” he barely manages to sing it now, she’s moves back up again, then down, taking more of him in with each movement, working a rhythm his body instinctively starts to follow.  His control is slipping as he tries to sing the chant and keep himself from moving too much.  “Lift me from a world of pain,” the tight vacuum she creates with mouth doesn’t ceases, and he never leaves her mouth.  He wants to grab her hair, her shoulders, but can’t.  He pulls his own hair, keeping himself focused, here, not on the pleasure he’s receiving.  “Judge me worthy of Your endless pride,” now the combination of the vacuum, depth, and tongue.  She’s taking his full length in now.  It’s almost too much.  No, it’s too much, but he doesn’t want her to stop.  Sweat is coming down his body now, and what was a cold room is now very hot.    
  
Cullen stop her, pulls her away as much as he pulls himself away from her.  Much to his dismay she’s smiling, and for all the wrong reasons.  Dreah nearly undid him, and knows it.  He brings her to her feet then turns her around, bending her over the altar table.  
  
“My Creator, judge me whole,” gently he parts her legs with his own, and she doesn’t resist him.  Instead she raises her hips just enough, “Find me well within Your grace.”  He lines himself up with her, teasing her just enough that she moves back towards him.   “Touch me with fire that I be cleansed,” he slowly presses forward, slipping in her at an agonizingly slow speed for good measure.  “Tell me I have sung to Your approval,” and he slides into her, hot, slick, and ready.  
  
“Cullen!”  The feeling of him stretching her is bless in itself.  The fullness of him, the beast inside the control of the man, she can feel it now.  He thrusts slow but hard, teasing her, taunting her.  His hands are on her hips, holding her.  
  
“Sing.”  His voice is demanding.  There is no room for anything but this.  
  
Dreah takes a moment to breathe, to remember the words, “O Maker, hear my cry!”  Then he picks up the pace, moaning her name as he slides in and out of her.  “Cullen, don’t stop!”    
  
He stops.  “Keep singing, and I keep moving.”    
  
A line of curses enters her mind, “Seat me by Your side in death.”  He rocks his hips just enough that he slides over that spot as he thrusts in and out.  Each syllable is marked by a thrust, rocking the altar beneath her.  Dreah’s hands twist into the cloak, trying to find some way of remaining grounded so as to remember the words.  
  
“Sing.”  Frustration marks the tone of his voice now.  This is as torturous for him as it is for her.  
  
“Make me one within Your glory,” Dreah’s breath is weak, but each word feels like bliss as he continues with his ministrations, making the torture all the more pleasurable.  “And let the world once more see Your favor,” the altar threatens to fall over or collapse now, but she doesn’t care.  She can feel the tightness build up inside her, the grip on her hips leaving a bruise she knows she’ll love.  She pauses now, on purpose.  
  
“Sing!”  One hand takes to her hair and wraps her braid around it before pulling, “now.”  
  
“For You are the fire at the heart of the world,” Dreah’s legs can barely hold her up anymore, and his thrust become harder as soon as he releases her braid.  Hard, deep, and the altar rocks beneath them.  He moves more slowly, staying as much in control of himself as he can.  She knows he’s there, “and comfort is only Yours to give!”  
  
Cullen pulls out now, and without warning lifts her from the altar and against the wall.  He bends down and slides one of her legs over either arm, then slowly enters her again, using the wall for support.  Her arms around his neck, forehead against his own, she feels him enter deep and hard.    
  
“Cullen!  Cullen!  Yes, yes, yes!  There!  Oh, Maker!”  All thoughts of keeping quiet have left them.  There’s only here, only now, only this.  It builds up faster now, hotter, harder.  Her toes curl, her back arches, and her legs tighten over his arms.    
  
In that moment Cullen lets go of the control, having wanting to do so long before, and spills himself inside here.  He cries out in a mix of pain and pleasure as her teeth dig into his shoulder.  He can still feel her spasm around him, her climax so hard and complete she doesn’t even make sound.  Then she’s back, her body loosening its grip on him.    
  
With gentle care he slowly brings pulls out before lowering her down.  Both with shaking legs they make it to his cloak and lay down, catching their breaths.  “I don’t think I can make it back to my room.”  
  
Cullen looks at her, the candlelit reflecting off her sweaty limbs, “why’s that, my love?”  
  
“I can’t feel my legs.”  
  
“There are too many stairs around here,” Cullen chuckles as he looks at her, completely exhausted.  
  
“My room is closer.  You’re staying up there tonight.”  
  
“No, the guards will - “  
  
“I know, talk.  I’m pretty sure they heard everything tonight.”  She looks at him, and the look of shock on his face brings out a sudden burst of laughter.  “You were yelling as much as I was!”  
  
“Maker, help me.”  
  
“I don’t think he’ll be listening to us for a few days.  We may have deafened him.”

**Author's Note:**

> Andraste's flaming knickers! Over 1900 hits in just two months! THANK YOU!!!


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